


Blackthorn Winter

by inquisitor_tohru



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Light Angst, Post-Far Harbor, Post-Game(s), Synth Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 10:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15906738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: “... you just can't differentiate between a robot and the very best of humans.”- Isaac Asimov,I, RobotNora shares some of her feelings about the doubts DiMA planted during their time in Far Harbor and worries about her son.





	Blackthorn Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



She hadn’t known Nick - the _other_ Nick Valentine, not really. She’d spotted him across the courtroom on a couple of occasions, when she’d been working the Winters case. The second time she’d been more concerned by her waters breaking.

No, Eleanora hadn’t known _that_ Nick, nor had she given him much thought until two hundred years later. When she first heard his name whispered in Diamond City she’d wondered if it really could be _him._ The thought of finding another person in her position drove her forward, and she was able to ignore the greasy stench of the radroaches she’d stuffed in her pack - they might taste vile, but they were easy game, and as good a source of protein as she was likely to find.

It made her laugh now, as much as anything did. To think that she could have been so optimistic, even after everything that had happened since the bombs dropped. To think that she could have been so foolish. And most of all, it made her laugh to think that back then she’d actually been disappointed when she did track him down.

“Something on your mind?” Nick asked, the bed creaking slightly as he sat back down after tinkering with one of the exposed wires at his wrist. He’d been doing that more often recently, since they’d returned from Far Harbor. Since _DiMA_.

“Something on _yours_?”

“Crisis of identity, existential dread. You know, the usual.” He chuckled. “I thought with Eddie gone, I’d come to terms with it all. Guess things are never quite that simple.”

“It’ll...take time,” she said, her hand finding its way to the small of his still-naked back. DiMA’s words wormed their way back into the forefront of her mind.

_I don’t mean to question you, but what’s the first memory you have?_

More and more of her pre-war memories had begun to resurface since her conversation with Nick’s brother, but it did little to ease her doubts. Plenty of synths had memories that weren’t memories - recollections of people they’d never met, places they’d never been. She felt Nick’s hand close over hers.

“It’s all that stuff DiMA was saying, isn’t it?” He looked over his shoulder, his neck turning only a couple of degrees further than a human’s ought to. Of course Nick knew. He was a detective - he was _perceptive._ It was one of the many things she’d grown to love about him.

“Yeah.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s just...isn’t that _exactly_ the kind of messed up stunt Father would pull?” Eleanora thought back to the day she met the child called Shaun - how _frightened_ he’d been of her then, and how in awe he was of his ‘mother’ now.

“I don’t know, maybe it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change how I feel…” Her eyes wandered towards the ruined cot. Not knowing whether it had truly been hers had made her even more reluctant to get rid of it. “About Shaun, or about Nate. Same as with you and Jennifer. But it’s the _not knowing_. And,” she laughed, shaking her head, “I probably lost my chance of ever finding out.” After all, all that remained of the Institute was rubble. Well, rubble and…

_This synth, this...boy. He deserves more. He has been re-programmed to believe he is your son. It is my hope that you will take him with you. I would ask only that you give him a chance. A chance to be a part of whatever future awaits the Commonwealth._

She could hear Shaun’s light snoring from the next room. Obviously the boy was far too big for a cot, but he’d found a corner of the living room to lay down his sleeping bag and curl up with Dogmeat. On the chaise lounge she’d reclined in to nurse him, while Nate listened to the radio and made jam with the fruit from the blackthorn tree, all those years ago - at least that was what she _remembered._

She’d need to build Shaun a proper bed soon, and expected that he’d want to help. That boy just  _loved_ his projects. Projects and Fancy Lad Snack Cakes. Just like herself and Nate, and just like every synth she’d ever met. 

“Maybe we could still find out. If it does matter. The Institute may be gone, but there are always trails, traces. And you _do_ have a detective at your disposal.” Eleanora allowed herself a slight smile, holding onto his hand even tighter.

“I appreciate it. I’ll...think about it. The Institute, DiMA...it’s a lot. For you, too. I’m sorry, I’ve been rambling on and on about my own hangups-”

“I did ask you first,” Nick said. “Like I said, I’m not going to pretend things aren’t still murky. But I’ve had more time to adjust to being, well, not quite human. This body doesn’t exactly leave much room for doubt.” Eleanora traced the lines of some of the vein-like wires beneath his skin with her fingers. He felt pain (and, as she’d recently discovered, _pleasure_ ), but unlike the Gen-3 synths, Nick didn’t bleed. She’d seen Danse sustain minor injuries, before Haylen patched him up. But the shock of red the first time Shaun scraped his knee had still caught her off guard. If there was a difference between his blood and Father’s, she couldn’t see it - no wonder the boy didn’t _know_ he was a synth. How _could_ he?

“Shaun’s going to start asking questions - at some point.” When the handful of other children his age changed, and _his_ body no longer left room for doubt. “I want to be honest with him, but how?”

“You’ll figure it out. On your own, or with my help, with Curie or Danse... Whatever you need, Nora.”

“Thank you, Nick.” Her eyes were wet, but she felt better. Things were different now, but that didn’t mean they had to be worse.

“Just let me know.” Eleanora grinned and pulled the covers back.

“For now, come back to bed.”


End file.
